


trust issues

by alamorn



Series: sudden moves [5]
Category: Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Light Bondage, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 17:49:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8762917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alamorn/pseuds/alamorn
Summary: It’s not that she doesn’t trust Floyd. She trusts him more than she’s ever trusted anyone. At least, her head does. Her body is a bit slow on the uptake, at least when it comes to sex. Or penetration, if you want to get technical. They’ve had plenty of sex. 
it's porn, folks





	

It’s not that she doesn’t trust Floyd. She trusts him more than she’s ever trusted anyone. At least, her head does. Her body is a bit slow on the uptake, at least when it comes to sex. Or penetration, if you want to get technical. They’ve had plenty of _sex_.

When she says, “I want to try riding you again,” he says, “No way,” without even looking up from his book.

“Hear me out—“

“Last time we tried, you had a panic attack and I thought you were going to have a heart attack. No way.”

“I’ll tie you down first.”

He doesn’t say anything to that, but he does look up. Slowly. “I’m listening.”

“I figure, if you _can’t_ control the situation, I won’t be worried that you’ll _try_.” She smiles prettily, to make it obvious that she’s serious.

He scratches his jaw. She’s still not quite used to him clean shaven, but she likes it. It feels better when he goes down on her. “And you think that’ll keep you from freezing? If you do, and I’m tied up…”

It’s a good point, and one she thought of. She’s glad he did, too, though. “We can take it slow!”

He puts his book down and looks over his reading glasses at her. It’s kind of hot, in a librarian sort of way. “What kind of tying down are we talking about? I don’t want any handcuffs on me ever again.”

She shrugs. “A belt or something? I didn’t think you’d go for it, so I didn’t plan that far ahead.”

He rolls his eyes at her. “I’m assuming I’ll be tied _to_ the bed. Hands only, or feet too?”

There’s a slow warmth starting in her belly. She can feel a smirk crawling its way onto her lips. “What’s your preference?”

 

Floyd tests the bonds and the rattly old bed frame creaks, but his hands and feet stay firmly where they are. There’s a scarf or shirt padding each limb, and the belts are _just_ loose enough that he could get out of them if she does freeze up, but tight enough that it’s significantly faster for her to untie him.

He’s naked and his cock is already getting interested in what’s going on. Harley’s fully dressed still, doing one last check that he’s not going to lose circulation anywhere. His eyes following her are almost a physical weight. Her clit is already throbbing.

They didn’t talk through doing a _scene_ or anything, but she kind of feels like she should be doing something special. She lets her hand trace down from where she was checking his right wrist. Runs it over the tendons in his forearm, the soft skin of his inner elbow, the hard swell of his bicep, the bulge and divot of his shoulder, stretched up. Her fingers are feather light over the sharp jut of his collarbone, up the strong column of his neck, the line of his jaw, the softness of his lips.

She bends over and kisses those lips, gently, sweetly. _Thank you_. He runs his tongue against the seam of her lips and she opens to let him in, runs her tongue along his, and starts to pull away. He catches her lower lip between his teeth and lets her drag away from him.

He grins up at her, cheeky, cheeky, so she slides a hand back fast and palms his cock, still only half hard.

He hisses, brow furrowing as she traces around the head of his cock with a finger tip, gentle, gently.

“You’re gonna be good for me, right, Floyd? You’re gonna be very, very good?” She coos it, and brings her hand up to run over his abs. They flex and jump under her hand.

He snorts, which makes her pout. “Yeah, Harley. I’ll be good for you.”

She flattens her palm over one of his pectorals, then the other hand on the other side. It’s an awkward angle, so she shuffles onto the bed and swings a leg over him to perch primly on his stomach. She scratches her fingernails through his smattering of chest hair and his flat nipples pebble under her palms.

“I feel like you didn’t mean that, biscuit.” She shakes her head sadly. “I think you’re gonna have to make it up to me.”

Floyd is obviously still going along with this because she asked, not because he wants it, because he has on a shit eating grin and he says, “Oh yeah?”

Well, if he’s not going to try to make this a scene, she’s not going to put in the effort of sweet talking. She drops the soft voice and says, “Oh, yeah. I wanna come at least three times tonight.”

That makes his eyes go dark. “Any ideas on how we’re gonna make that happen?”

She taps her lips with her pointer finger. Her other hand is still busy groping him. “I think we’re gonna start with you eating me out, and we’ll go from there.”

“Dressed like that?” he says, artfully scornful, but he licked his lips before he said it, so point Harley.

She pulls her shirt off without saying anything, and it’s always satisfying to watch him watching her, but she has to get off him to take her shorts off. She gives his cock a friendly rub as she goes, and he’s biting his lip as he watches her shimmy out of her shorts and panties.

When she straddles him again, she gets right to business and plants her knees next to his ears. She hovers above him and run her hand across his few weeks worth of hair, cupping the back of his skull. “Floyd?” she says and he drags his eyes from her damp curls to her eyes.

He licks his lips. “Harls.”

Her voice drops, husky and low and unaffected. “Earn it.”

Floyd blinks, long and slow, a sweep of eyelashes against skin. She can hear the bed frame creak, then go quiet as he strains at his bonds and then remembers them. He turns his head and nips the skin of her thigh, then cranes his neck to swipe his tongue from the base of her slit to her clit.

She’s just far enough away that he has to really work to get at her, and from the regular rattle of the bed, he desperately wants to just drag her closer. He doesn’t stop, though, doesn’t tell her to untie him, doesn’t work his way out of the belts. The warmth that fills her belly at that realization is of an entirely different sort than before.

As pleased, touched, _happy_ as she is, she doesn’t make things easier for him. What would be the point in that?

Given the limits she’s put on him, it takes less time than it might before she has to brace herself on the headboard and shudder as she comes.

When she’s caught her breath, she starts to move backwards, but her legs get caught around his arms and she has to stand and get off the bed. Her clit is oversensitive and there’s little bolts of _too much_ as she moves, so she plants her feet shoulder width apart, puts her hands on her hips, and stares down. Floyd’s mouth and chin are slick and shiny and his hands are clenched around the belts. His eyes are dark and heavy lidded, and his cock is leaking against his belly.

She can’t stop smiling. But. “Can you thrust like that?”

He tries and can only get his hips about an inch off the bed. “Do you want me to be able to?” he asks.

“Noooo,” she says slowly. “I don’t think I do.”

“Okay,” he says. “I won’t, and I can’t.” There’s a pause, and then he drawls, “What a pity, getting to lay back and relax while you do all the work.”

It startles a laugh out of her, and she straddles him again, trapping his cock between their bodies. She’s so wet that it’s almost frictionless as she slowly slides back and forth. He throws his head back and hisses. His throat bobs. His hands tighten around the belts. Otherwise, he’s totally still.

She’s barely breathing in anticipation, anxiety, whatever you want to call it, her eyes not straying from his face as she slides back and forth a couple more times, then grabs a condom from the bed beside him and moves back, rolls it on, teases the head of his cock through her folds.

Her chest feels tight, and her mouth is open, just a little bit, as she breathes shallowly and bumps the blunt tip of his dick against her opening. Take it slow, she reminds herself. She lowers down until she starts to stretch out around him, the stretch not quite a burn. It’s been a while since she’s had anything thicker than a finger in her, and longer since she enjoyed it.

She pulls back and he moans a little, in frustration or something else. She can’t tell. But then he says, “You want me to eat you out again?”

She sinks down on him maybe an inch this time, and says, “No. I can do this.”

There’s a muscle jumping his jaw, and he won’t break eye contact with her. He’s perfectly, rigidly still, though she can see the tension in his muscles, the flutter of his abs when she takes him in and pulls back off, the twitch in his biceps that never makes it all the way to his hands, never strains the headboard.

That— control, or discipline, or whatever it is, that loosens the tightness in her chest. She smiles and takes him halfway in this time and his mouth opens. When she pulls off, she leans forward to kiss him. He’s sloppier than usual, more eager, desperate even, but still he doesn’t try to hurry her. Still he doesn’t thrust up into her.

When she sits back, she takes a moment, lines him up, and slides all the way down, going slow. He chews on his lip, watching her. She takes a moment to consider how she feels. There’s no pain, though the stretch isn’t the most comfortable thing ever. It’ll ease as she relaxes, as she fucks herself on him. She is still here, in this moment, with Floyd looking up at her and breathing deliberately slowly.

“Okay,” she says and nods. “I think…I think we’re good.”

“You sure?” he asks.

She appreciates the concern, but also, she rolls her eyes, pulls almost entirely off and slides back down, faster than before. His breath shudders out of him. “I’m sure,” she says, and does it again.

It takes a bit of searching to find a good angle for her, and then she presses her fingers to her clit and rides him, still slow, still steady, as they both start gasping.

“I want to kiss you,” he grits out and she tips forward as if toppled, meets him in a desperate kiss. Her hips keep moving, as if by autopilot.

When she pulls away, unable to do both things at once, he starts talking. “You’re incredible. God, I want to worship you. I haven’t gotten to play with your tits yet. I want to kiss every inch of you. I’m gonna have bruises on my wrists and every time I touch them I’m gonna think of this.”

It’s too much, and it pitches her over the edge of her second orgasm. She goes rigid, then shakes to pieces, whimpering and sobbing with pleasure. When she’s done, she drapes herself across Floyd, feeling heavy and languid, and circles her hips until he groans and shudders and says, “Stop, stop.”

“Do you want me to get off?” she murmurs into his ear.

“My shoulders are starting to hurt,” he admits as if it’s a personal failing. “I’ll give you your third if you want, but I need to stretch first.”

She laughs into his shoulder. “That’s okay. I’m feeling pretty fucked out.” She hops off, and unties his hands. He takes off the condom, ties it off and tosses it while she gets his ankles. Then she heads for the shower while he stretches out his shoulders. They’ll have to move on after the hit they’re doing tonight, but this crappy apartment with its crappy bed has served them very well, so she casts a fond glance over the room.

No rest for the wicked, and they’re _very_ wicked.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://www.alamorn.tumblr.com)


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